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Connecting with God through poetic articulations of lived, embodied experience--engaging texts from the Revised Common Lectionary for Christian churches, other biblical and spiritual texts, and evocations of the divine in rituals and other public events--always accepting lived reality as a primary source of divine revelation and mystery.Thu, 22 Jun 2017 17:47:56 +0000enhourly1http://wordpress.com/https://s2.wp.com/i/buttonw-com.pngfaithfulpoetics.nethttps://faithfulpoetics.net
Listenhttps://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/06/22/listen/
https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/06/22/listen/#respondThu, 22 Jun 2017 17:47:47 +0000http://faithfulpoetics.net/?p=1528]]>Reflections on Proper 7, Third Sunday after Pentecost, Year A

He was raking in 10 million in leanest years, celebrated for Midas ways with stocks, his counsel sought by all who wanted more and more even as he felt less and less, waking at night with scenes of gaunt-faced children watching him as he ate at Sardi’s and the White House. He cried, he prayed, went to church every day, gave away millions to hungry kids everywhere , still the money piled up mocking his nightmares, misery and guilt.

Hurrying from one meeting to the next, he heard a street evangelist quoting Jesus, “Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” He was stopped, unable to move, I want to lose this life—the voice sounded like his— no more capital gains no house in the Hamptons no private jet. He cried, right on Wall Street. People stared, others averting their gaze, most kept their distance as he tore at his Armani uniform thrusting his coat, then his tie, shirt, shoes, pants at gaping tourists and brokers, “I don’t need these, please take them, in the name of God,” he said, and hearing himself thought, where did that come from? Who said that?

He looked around, as if seeing the street for the first time, now knowing what he had to do. He remembered hearing a preacher say following a divine call is rarely easy, Jeremiah and Jesus surely knew, friends and family, authorities too turn away, turn against, the loneliness can overwhelm even in the embrace of God.

But he felt raised up, resurrection-like, his mind racing, his heart at peace, beat of new life beckoning him to become a disciple, a student of the Lord, gentle Jesus whom he knew also said some hard either/or words about not bringing peace setting children against parents foes arising in the household hierarchies of teachers above disciples seeming normal but masters over slaves grate against modern ears can we love Jesus more than mother and father, what about God?

He thought, I love God most of all, and I want to serve with Jesus and the Holy Spirit; this is my ‘I can’t not do it moment’ I heard my pastor describe, when he knew he was called to share the Good News: God’s total, unending, unconditional love.

Naked as Francis long ago, he saw the church and went inside to pray and to listen for further instruction.

About this poem. . . So many of the really cool people in the Bible show us that following God is not a necessarily smooth way, that the challenges can be huge, daunting . Upending a life is best done with divine direction and that can come in all sorts of ways to all sorts of people. Jeremiah and Jesus, two prophets who had hard things to say because they listened so carefully to God, surely must have felt, from time to time at least, why me? Of course, God’s answer to them, as to us, is, who else?

Textual foci: Matthew 9:35-10:23; Psalm 100; Romans 5:1-8Click here for biblical textsSunday morning at the Metro Station pleasant people staff stations for sharing the truth they claim, they know, will set us free pamphlets, magazines, personal testimony and smiles, handshakes, even hugs too to show the love of God in case we don’t know it already and to be sure our belief is correct so when Jesus comes, when Jesus comes, we are counted worthy.

They smile and say “Good Morning” as I pass clerical color and dangly earrings marking me a man different from others as I smile too—the politeness of our exchange linking us strangely with the One who was often impolite, or at least impolitic, healing the wrong people on the wrong day breaking bread with the disreputable loving sinners as much as the pious— or maybe more—the One with big plans for his twelve just as he has for us, compassion to share with the lost, curing disease, healing the sick in body and heart, guiding sheep who lose our way.

Yes we are the sheep called also to be shepherds—there always is someone who needs leading to water or food or medical care or encouraging words like those some give my friend Tyrone the Pennyman at this same station but not on Sunday. He does not sit in his usual spot to call out “Pennies, pennies, pennies,” to busy travelers on the Lord’s Day, we being fewer in number (why is church attendance declining now?) and perhaps more intent on filling the collection plate than the stomach of one with few teeth, many rags and unkempt hair— yet in his cheerful countenance reminds me of St. Paul who says suffering produces endurance and endurance produces character and character produces hope.

I just pray Tyrone’s hope does not disappoint him and others who struggle in like manner, that somehow divine love moves enough sheep, and shepherds too, you and me among them, to help the lowly rise that all may make a joyful noise and worship God with joy.

]]>https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/06/16/the-lords-day/feed/0beggar on street with back to cameraRobinwriting+poetryNameshttps://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/06/09/names/
https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/06/09/names/#commentsFri, 09 Jun 2017 20:24:20 +0000http://faithfulpoetics.net/?p=1503]]>Reflection on Trinity Sunday, Year A

I baptize you—yes you, who wants or whom others want to be a disciple of Christ or at least a member of this church or other Christian body or to be called a baptized Christian when appropriate— In the Name of the Creator and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

There’s that Trinity thing again, pastor says it at the weekly benediction as well as at the end of heavy-duty prayers; it must be important, it even has its own Sunday, but does any mortal really grasp what early fathers of holy church had in mind when they made belief in Trinitarianism a test of faith?

Or was it meant only to be a mark of faith, an enigma bound in mystery so securely that we can only repeat over and over: Creator—okay some still say Father— Son and Holy Spirit (does anyone still say Ghost?)—so we know and we hope God knows too we are speaking of the Holy Parent Jesus knew, lived, and taught, he part of the Trio dancing across eternity cajoling us on to the dance floor too wanting us to hear the heavenly beat, do more than tap our toes and hum along, get up, join the romp of living up and down and around with history’s most famous gospel rock group God Son Spirit except they are not playing in history; their greatest hits, new releases, available now wherever we are whomever we are, whomever we love, whatever our ancestry—indeed as Meister Eckhart of blessed memory said long ago, Creator/Parent laughed, and the Son was born, then the two of them laughed and the Spirit was born. When all three laughed, the human one was born.

Whether we understand or not —its all in the family, each one of us making a fourth not for bridge but for life.

Reflection on the Day of Pentecost, Year A

Happy birthday, Church, we say on Pentecost— meaning not our local community but whole Big C, the Church universal— but what if Luke in Acts 2, citing ancestor Joel, saw a bigger vision in the tongues, the fire, Holy Spirit moving, touching everyone, surging wind filling the whole space and beyond as crowds gathered amazed, these devout Jews— were there only Jews— from every nation gathered in Jerusalem for Shavuot, the feast of weeks fifty days after Passover and the Resurrection, how could they all fit in one room that was intended for disciples including women of course; how is violent wind of many fiery tongues contained in one room?

Did the walls disappear, not crashing down not scaring or hurting people nor in battle as at Jericho but vanishing so that in a twinkling the room is the world the street is the room all open to the divine swirling in and around them— all things are possible with God— so on that day as on all days there were no limits on the Spirit of God that brooded long ago on the face of the deep in the first days.

In the last days God says I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh young and old all genders humans of all stations including those not allowed their God-given freedom, all flesh, God says— when does all not mean all, and if we claim the right to change the word, to say it is only people who believe a certain way, what or who is our authority?

Are we still waiting or did the last days already come— has not God poured already does not God pour every day, are not all blessed, and how do we, will we, you and I, respond?

About this poem . . . Walls are often necessary, but we also can get stuck behind them. I don’t think God likes many of our walls, so often slipping through them and hoping we do, too. The biggest, hardest walls are, of course, the ones in our heads.

]]>https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/06/02/last-days/feed/1Acts 2:1-4. When the day of Pentecost came. Pastel & pen. 26 May 2012.RobinStill Herehttps://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/05/25/still-here/
https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/05/25/still-here/#respondThu, 25 May 2017 19:36:43 +0000http://faithfulpoetics.net/?p=1485]]>Reflection on Ascension Day and 7th Sunday of Easter, Year A

Hurry! Limited time only—offer will not be repeated— must liquidate all merchandise Sale ends at midnight tomorrow!

Is this it, Lord, is it the time You will restore the kingdom to Israel?

Oh the questions they asked as if he appeared on Fox News to outline the latest theory of how the world will end or at least the Roman Empire.

When Jesus left the disciples— modern minds wonder about Ascension, what principle of physics allows it— they looked up, what else can they do, we too thinking God is above, heaven and all angels dancing on high.

And God is up, but also down, nowhere God is not can pray everywhere— where is your upstairs room, or woods, office, hammock, mountain top, backyard, busy avenue to wait for God who is already here?

Prayer and much else comes to those who wait, not filling the air with our words as God prays in and through us; all is gift, Jesus says everything You have given me I give to them, no special Easter sale, we, living in post-Resurrection time, look up, down, around, world without end. He’s still here though he rose.

Christ has died. Christ has risen. Christ is here. Christ will come again.

]]>https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/05/25/still-here/feed/0ascension Emil NoldeRobinAisles of Lovehttps://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/05/19/aisles-of-love/
https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/05/19/aisles-of-love/#respondSat, 20 May 2017 00:21:42 +0000http://faithfulpoetics.net/?p=1474]]>A Reflection for the Sixth Sunday after Easter, Year A

Worship at many temples, god of fossil fuel by Shell money at First National Bank sugar and fat by Dunkin’ Donuts country at Washington’s obelisk buff bodies by LA Fitness hard to stop bending the knee making offering when so many shrines and their gods beckon street corner after street corner mile by mile IHOP has more Sunday morning worshippers than St. John’s, First Baptist, and Trinity Lutheran together St. Walmart and Holy Costco compete across town lines of communicants approach the check-out altar awaiting blessing by swipe or insertion.

St. Paul would feel at home, so many monuments rise Athens-like, but Jesus might wonder if we can pause long enough to see God in the aisles or the eyes of credit card curates or understand the movement of love through those who stock shelves teach aerobics cook wait tables and drive-through windows

It takes courage to love when it’s not on the printed menu but we are not orphans, no place no time God is not.

About this poem . . . Paul’s commentary and caution to the Athenians, recorded in Acts, speaks from the aversion to idols grounded in the commandment given to Moses. It is easy to think that it is the Greeks or pagans of long ago who have idols, graven images. But there are many among us today. At the same time, these temples of commerce and more are also human gathering places, and God often shows up—probably is there all the time (as in Athens long ago).

Easter is not ended officially yet it seems long ago that we sang Alleluia! wore our Sunday best, feasted at two tables, maybe looked for a certain rabbit to entertain our children— do we still proclaim resurrection and if we do, are we ready to follow the risen Christ wherever he leads us?

We don’t know exactly where he is calling us though many claim to know— earnestly telling us they have the inside scoop because they have the key to scriptural truth, God not having said a new thing for several millennia—and we must learn to trust, sometimes what we see when following Jesus looks unfamiliar even strange but that does not make it less godly, after all Jesus was always going places, doing things those in the know knew were wrong.

God’s house is said to be roomy at least that is what Jesus said whether some of his latter day disciples still see it that way; no longer whites only on the main floor but nursing moms and their babes may be segregated to be sure no one glimpses part of a holy body and gays may want to be quiet lest they be asked to leave.

Going with Jesus is a challenge— he said we will do what he does and even greater things but when was your last miracle, and who knows if he really meant that even though he was not one for idle chatter or boasts— easier just to read and ride along and not get too engaged or eager nor too far in front where we might be tempted to look down like Peter and sink.

About this poem . . . .Did Easter really happen? Is it over? The church calendar says no, but what about in daily life?

]]>https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/05/13/where/feed/0RobinCompletehttps://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/05/05/complete/
https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/05/05/complete/#commentsFri, 05 May 2017 14:57:17 +0000http://faithfulpoetics.net/?p=1460Continue reading Complete]]>Reflection on the Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year A

It’s not just wolves that cause sheep to run in the wrong direction, fellow sheep do, too; some wolves pretend to be shepherds (see Sunday morning cable).

A good shepherd is needed in personal and community life, especially if we seek a world where people care for one another, where works and blessings of God are manifest.

Church is best known by its relationship with the Shepherd the earliest disciple-sheep knew, loved, and followed, but there are churches where he might not be welcome when he approves of selling their possessions and goods, and distributing proceeds to those in need.

Sounds un-American, socialist even— how we want to claim religion to support what we already do, who we already are, planting our national flag in God’s house as if God cares about lines on a map.

Following the Shepherd means going where he goes, not necessarily where we have been or want to go, trusting he knows where water and food are, how to avoid wolves and other dangers, protecting us and our lambs.

Abundant life is the promise, we do not want when we let him lead us there.

About this poem . . . All we like sheep have gone astray, haunting words from Isaiah and melody from Handel, point to the need for not just a leader but the Shepherd of the shepherds. The payoff is huge, but we cannot know for sure what it will look like, or how we will get there.

]]>https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/05/05/complete/feed/2Shepherd_3RobinGood Morning, Godhttps://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/04/29/good-morning-god/
https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/04/29/good-morning-god/#respondSat, 29 Apr 2017 14:29:24 +0000http://faithfulpoetics.net/?p=1441]]>Reflection on the Third Sunday of Easter, Year A

He always says “Good morning,” “Good afternoon” or simple “Hello” as he meets others on walks. “You never know what someone may want to tell you, so I like to prepare the way with courtesy and care,” he said in response to a friend who asked him about his habit. “It might be Jesus out for a walk, or someone else God has tapped with a message for me. Besides,” he continued, “I believe each of us is created in the image of God, so when I greet someone I feel I am greeting part of God. I really appreciate when God answers back.”

“Like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, you just never know when a conversation will change your life,” he said. “One thing is sure, if you don’t engage others, the conversation will not happen. I am not in charge of which conversations God may use so I try to be open all the time.”

“Here’s the deal,” he said, “we pray often for God to be present. I wonder how God feels about that, when in my experience God already is here and now, everywhere, all the time. There is no place, no time, God is not; I figure my job is to be present, so God can get through to me when God wants. I even speak to some trees, the squirrels, flowers, birds. You just never know. Like those disciples, I might get a message from the food I eat—that’s why I give thanks, not just physical nourishment but also spiritual feeding. Anything, everything, is possible with God.”

About this poem . . . As a boy, I remember wondering what it must have felt like for the disciples walking on the road to Emmaus to be engaged by, and to engage, Jesus. Later, thanks to some wonderful spiritual teachers and moments of my own, I began a lifelong journey into understanding I can experience that closeness, too. I am still learning, and receiving.

]]>https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/04/29/good-morning-god/feed/0jesus-feet-walking umcholiness wordpress comRobinWhat Now?https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/04/28/what-now/
https://faithfulpoetics.net/2017/04/28/what-now/#respondFri, 28 Apr 2017 17:41:26 +0000http://faithfulpoetics.net/?p=1436Continue reading What Now?]]>Reflection on the Second Sunday of Easter, Year A

Text focus: John 20:19-31 Click here for biblical texts

Huddled in a room too small for their number fearing for their lives keeping windows covered password required for entry; others hiding outside praying ICE agents do not see them or dogs smell them before night when they slip across the border trusting false IDS will be ready so they can find work a place to stay a new life to build in the land they hope will accept their bravery and award freedom; or gay men, lesbians, trans people hiding in closets, wanting life, not sure they have strength to claim wholeness.

An old story, fear driving people into hiding, authorities, angry crowds, vigilantes, pious rule-enforcers, fundamentalists of one sort or another, determined to tamp down freedom movements, different religions, new ideas, ways of living beyond poverty and despair— not unlike disciples behind locked doors the evening of the day Jesus rose, afraid they would be next on crosses.

But Jesus visited them to breathe Spirit into them give them hope. release them from their prison get on with sharing good news healing the sick witnessing to divine love.

So today’s question: whose prisons will we visit whose cells will we unlock which fugitives will we take in which disciples of love and hope and family and justice will we welcome to our churches, our homes to keep them safe, whose hearing will we attend to speak on behalf of mercy and justice for all or at least for one or two or more of those most vulnerable most afraid most at risk?

About this poem . . . . It is so easy to leave the disciples back there, knowing things will get better for them. But we have been, maybe are, afraid; and have received the Spirit too; what do we do with it?